


Bad Memories and Banjo Surround-Sound

by Sci-fi-hero (FireGriffin)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Forduary, Gen, I wrote this for forduary but it took a while to finish writing, Post-Weirdmageddon, fiddleford mcgucket regains some memories, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireGriffin/pseuds/Sci-fi-hero
Summary: Ford and Fiddleford pay a visit to the bunker to help him regain some of his older memories. Dipper tags along. The bunker is full of old regrets, fears, and locked away memories. Ford wonders if he shouldn't have locked Shifty up at all.





	Bad Memories and Banjo Surround-Sound

Ford had almost forgotten about the bunker. After everything else that had happened, even an apocalypse-proof underground bunker with a supervillain-style security system had slipped his mind. It was Dipper, of course, who reminded him of it. He seemed to never run out of things to say to Ford, and after he’d asked all the questions he could think of about Ford’s travels, their conversations had moved on to Dipper’s own adventures over the summer. 

 

“Why’d you make that bunker?” Dipper asked, sipping on Pitt Cola.

 

“Bunker?” Ford furrowed his brow. “Oh! The bunker!” He grinned. “How could I have forgotten it? That place used up more of my grant money than I’d like to admit. It would’ve been safe from Weirdmageddon too, I think.” He laced his fingers together. It was hard to sit still after so many years of being on the run. “We -- Fiddleford and I -- made that bunker in case of just that sort of emergency. I didn’t... I didn’t know Bill was a threat at the time, but I knew if there were beings as powerful as him out there, not all of them were bound to be good.”

 

Dipper nodded. He looked very serious. It worried him and yet he found it admirable, how the kid tried so hard to act older than he was. It reminded Ford of himself at age thirteen.

 

Dipper finished the last of his soda, and spat out the pit. “It’s really cool. Buuut it almost crushed me and Mabel and Wendy and Soos to death. But still, cool.”

 

“You’ve  _ been down there? _ ” Ford spluttered. “That’s...” he tried to remember all the dangerous things that were down in the bunker. And what page of his journals even talked about it, and which  _ book _ of his journals described it... the third one, certainly, since that’s the one Dipper found first. There was the trap, and the food supplies, and those cryogenic chambers... and  _ the Shapeshifter. _ Ford’s stomach dropped.

 

“...that’s incredibly dangerous,” Ford continued. “But nothing you can’t handle, clearly.” He didn’t want to worry too much, especially when it happened a while ago. But part of him couldn’t shake the fear that the Shapeshifter had somehow escaped. “...how many times did you go down there?”

 

“Just one time.” Dipper didn’t seem to sense Ford’s uneasiness. “Hey, you know what would be cool? If we went down there again! There was this shapeshifter, but we shoved him into a cryogenic chamber, so it’s fine.” Dipper smiled tightly, looking distant. “Haha, yeah. Totally fine.”

 

Ford frowned, remembering that the Shapeshifter shouldn’t have even been a threat, but somehow he’d escaped? And then Dipper had locked him back up again? It was too much work to remember so many things all at once. He pinched his nose. “I’m not sure I want to visit that bunker again, Dipper. That Shapeshifter and I were not on good terms, last time we spoke.”

 

“You don’t have to un-freeze him,” Dipper pressed. “We’d just be looking around.”

 

“Hmm.” Ford couldn’t say no to his grand nephew. He was so curious, and so smart for his age. If Ford didn’t go with him, he might want to go down there by himself again. So wouldn’t it be safer if he accompanied Dipper anyway? And it  _ would _ be nice to see the old place again. He had fond memories of working on it with Fiddleford. It had been much less contentious a time than building the portal, that was for sure.

 

Maybe Fiddleford would like to come down there with them? Ford’s train of thought stopped in its tracks. Fiddleford would likely not want to see the Shapeshifter. If he didn’t remember it, he might even feel that same terror all over again without understanding why.

 

That would be a risk. But all the same, maybe seeing the Bunker would help Fiddleford recover some of his memories of the good times they shared back then. Was it really his place to withhold that from him out of the desire to protect him? No. He’d ask Fiddleford if he wanted to come.

 

~

 

In the end, far too many people wound up wanting to come. Fiddleford accepted the invitation, admitting that he didn’t remember hardly anything about the place. Then Stanley had been like “you built a  _ doomsday bunker _ and didn’t tell me about it? I gotta see this!”, and then  _ Mabel _ had overheard and insisted that she come too. Then, of course, Soos and Wendy heard about the trip from  _ her _ , and pretty soon a veritable crowd was asking when they were going to visit.

 

Ford figured out how to thin out the crowd at last by turning to Stanley and whispering, “are we really letting people go down there without being charged a tour fee?”. Stan said he knew Ford just wanted to go down there with a smaller crowd, and he wasn’t gonna weasel his way out of showing Stan that place sometime, but let Ford head out toward the bunker without anyone but Dipper and Fiddleford noticing. “Just promise to take me down there sometime, just you and me, after ya show McGucket and Dipper around.”

 

Ford agreed, and set off with Dipper and Fiddleford the next morning. 

 

~

 

Ford enjoyed walking with Fiddleford again, traversing the same path through the woods that they’d always taken on their way to the bunker. The path was wider now, and more well-worn, but he didn’t mind. It gave them enough space to walk side by side. Fidds was shorter than him now, which he still wasn’t used to. But he still cracked the best jokes, and his eyes still lit up with the same fondness when he was able to make Ford laugh. Dipper looked kind of amazed that Fidds and Ford got along so well. He'd known Fidds as the feral hillbilly who lived in a garbage dump for most of last summer, after all.

 

Ford didn't like to think about what Fidds had gone through up until he swore never to use the memory gun again. So he tried to get Dipper and Fiddleford talking. “Tell Dipper about the intracombustible super shark you're working on, Fiddleford.” 

 

Fidds looked shyly at Dipper (the way he looked at most people who lived through his less sane years). “My shark, eh? That one’s a beauty. Have ya ever seen a generator that runs on carbon dioxide?”

 

Dipper shook his head. “Isn't that impossible?”

 

Ford snorted. “Fiddleford’s never heard of the word impossible. He could make a balloon full of lead float, if he put his mind to it.”

 

Fidds grinned. “Aw, Ford, you give me a lot of credit there.” He launched into an explanation of the shark robot, which Dipper grew more and more engrossed in (as did Ford). Fidds loved to talk with his hands, and he somehow made his hands into shark-shapes as he described the inner workings of it.

 

Eventually, they arrived at the tree leading to the bunker.

 

Dipper pointed it out first. “There's the tree! All we have to do is...” his face fell. “Oh yeah. The lever.”

 

“What's wrong, my boy?” Ford asked, kneeling down to eye level with Dipper.

 

“There's a lever you have to pull to activate the entrance,” Dipper reminded him. “But it's really high up!”

 

“Oh, that thing!” Ford stood up. “That'll be no problem. I'll simply...” he faltered. “Drat. Left my magnet gun at home. That's always how I used to get up there to reach it.”

 

Fidds, who up until now had been standing to the side, squinting at the tree without any recognition of it, stepped forward. “What's the issue, now?”

 

Ford sighed. “The lever is too high up on the tree to reach without my magnet gun. Usually I'd climb the tree, but it's metal, and smooth as metal too.”

 

Fidds appraised the tree. “Eh, I can take it.” And he scrambled to the top like a squirrel.

 

Ford and Dipper took a moment to stand in shocked silence.

 

“Which here branch is it?” Fidds asked from up high. As he asked it, he slipped, and went careening to the forest floor -- but not before snagging the correct branch on his beard, and pulling it on his way down.

 

On instinct, Ford ran forward, catching Fidds in his arms.

 

“See, I've still got it!” Fiddleford said with a grin. “I remember now. I used to climb this thing.”

 

“Only because I built it to be  _ impossible _ to climb barehanded,” Ford argued, setting Fidds down. 

 

Fidds chuckled. “Nah, I remember too, I helped build this place! We were a bunch of paranoid folks back then! Doomsday bunkers, ha!”

 

The tree twisted downwards into the earth, revealing a spiral staircase. Dipper bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Eeeeee!”

 

Ford ruffled his grand nephew’s hair. They'd long ago moved past the fanboy stage of his and dipper’s relationship, but once in a while the boy was too enthralled by something not to flap his arms and hop up and down. 

 

“Let's go,” Ford announced, taking the lead. And they all three walked down the staircase, until they arrived at the bunker itself. 

 

“Did you or me design the stairs?” Fiddleford asked on their way down. “I don't recall.”

 

“You, I think,” ford replied. the shadows on their faces grew deeper and deeper as they descended. “You're the engineer. You designed most of this place.” 

 

Fiddleford smiled. “Mighty fine job I did, too.”

 

Ford smiled. There was nothing in the world quite like making Fidds smile.

 

Once they entered the place, he was struck by how different it all was. Except for some obvious places (footprints, handprints), there was thirty years’ worth of dust built up across everything. 

 

They didn't linger in the front room. Fidds walked straight to the hidden entrance, as if in a trance. “I think I remember this place.... there was a secret entrance right here...” he pulled away the covering. “Yeehaw! Knew it!”

 

Dipper looked around with a similar expression. “We came down here with Wendy and Soos, last time. Mabel stuck her face into the barrel of caterpillars. And we found that laptop, the one with McGucket’s name on it.”

 

The three of them started crawling through the tunnel into the trap room. Their voices echoed now as they talked.

 

“Laptop?” Ford asked.

 

Dipper nodded, although Ford couldn’t see it. “It’s what made us think Mr. McGucket was more than just a... whatever he was.”

 

As they emerged on the other side, Fiddleford tread more carefully than before. “No one step on the floor blocks. There’s a pattern to open it up.”

 

“I know,” Ford replied, stepping forward to stand near the center of the little room. “I helped build this, remember?”

 

“Eh...” Fiddleford squinted at the tiles. “I remember this place.”

 

Dipper didn’t move once he stepped into the room. “The pattern’s in your journal, Grunkle Ford. In the blacklight part. If I just...” he reached into his vest, only to realize that he hadn’t brought it.

 

Ford turned to face Dipper. “I... don’t think I remember the pattern for unlocking the next area, unfortunately. It’s been too long.”

 

Fiddleford stood quietly, still squinting at the tiles all around the room. “I may not know the symbols in my head...” he said softly, leaping forward to set off one of the trap tiles. “...but I’ve still got muscle memory!”

 

Ford and Dipper cried out in unison, running to seize Fiddleford, although he’d already set it off.

 

“What are you  _ doing?! _ ” Ford exclaimed.  _ “I don’t remember the passcode!” _

 

Fiddleford didn’t have time to respond. He was busy running back and forth, pressing in symbols.

 

_ “It doesn’t work like that!” _ Dipper sat down on the floor, hugging his knees. He could feel a panic attack creeping up.  _ “We’re gonna die in here. _ ”

 

Ford didn’t know whether to run to Fidds or Dipper. So he simply stood in place, frozen with fear.

 

“Here ya go!” Fiddleford called out, pressing the last symbol in the sequence. A passageway opened up on one end of the room. “Told y’all I had muscle memory for it!”

 

Dipper leapt to his feet, sprinting for the opening. Ford looked back to tell Dipper to follow, but by the time he’d glanced backwards, Dipper was already out of the trap room. He then made a break for the opening, followed close behind by Fiddleford himself.

 

When they’d all made it out, they all had to stop to catch their breath. Fiddleford wore a big grin. “You were right! This place is bringin’ back all sort’sa memories!”

 

Ford gave him a tired look. “I’m glad. But warn us before you set off a deadly trap, next time.”

 

Fiddleford lifted up his glasses to squint at Ford and Dipper, taking in their expressions. “Aw, donkeyspittle. I didn’t mean t’scare y’all.”

 

Ford put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. Let’s keep going.”

 

This room had been a sort of control room for a lot of experiments going on within the bunker. Panels full of switches and levers and little flashing buttons filled the room. Although the window was dusty and grimy, one could still see the cryogenic tubes through it.

 

Ford’s stomach twisted into a not-entirely-unexpected knot when he saw the tubes. He couldn’t see shifty, but it still brought back memories he’d worked for thirty years on forgetting.

 

It had started with an egg. He’d had no idea what would come out of the egg, but as soon as he found it he had to see if he could make it hatch. He’d grown unreasonably attached in the few short weeks it took for Shifty to fully form and break out of his egg’s shell. And he hadn’t wanted to release it into the wild.

 

At first he’d had good reason for it. Shifty -- “the shapeshifter”, at the time -- was too small to survive out in the wild. He had to take more DNA samples to crack the code of what made shapeshifting possible. He had to find other shapeshifters so Shifty could have a social group. There had been a whole slew of excuses for why he couldn’t let Shifty go. And then Shifty started to be able to talk.

 

This wasn’t unusual in magical animals (he thought with disdain about the gnomes that were little better than pests), but Shifty hadn’t grown up in the wild. His vocabulary had been learned entirely from Ford and Fiddleford’s discussions, and he seemed to enjoy scientific discussion just as much as the scientists who imprisoned him did. After that, there was no reason to keep Shifty locked up. He was a fully self-aware intelligent life form. But no matter what tests Ford did, he still couldn’t unlock the secrets of the shapeshifting powers. Not only that, but he searched far and wide for other shapeshifters to learn from, and they’d come out empty-handed. If he let Shifty go free, he might never see another shapeshifter again, and the opportunity to study him was far too valuable to waste.

 

At least, those had been his reasons. Shifty talked more and more about the outside world, begging them to let him at least see pictures of different animals for him to shapeshift into. But Ford was afraid. He knew how powerful Shifty had grown to be, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he  _ had _ to let Shifty go. But his experiments weren’t done yet.

 

Fiddleford didn’t say much in the matter, back then. He called Shifty “it”, not “he”, and never called Shifty by his (admittedly simplistic) name. It was always “the shapeshifter”, or “that creature”. He didn’t want to get attached to it. It seemed like he was even  _ afraid _ of it, which Ford didn’t understand, until Shifty made an escape attempt.

 

“Grunkle Ford?” Dipper’s voice sounded distant. “Great Uncle Ford?” 

 

The second time snapped Ford out of his rememberings. He jumped a little. “Huh?”

 

“Are you ready to go deeper in?”

 

Ford tore his eyes away from the foggy, grimy view of the distant cryogenic chambers. “I suppose so.” 

 

Then he turned his gaze to Fiddleford, examining him for any sign of unpleasant memories coming back. So far, he looked just fine. In fact, he was smiling more widely than he had in a while.

 

“Well bless my badgers, I remember buildin’ this!” Fidds hopped onto a counter and flipped several switches. “Those ‘r for the surround sound system. Too bad it don’t work anymore.”

 

Ford looked away, smiling at the floor. Way back when they’d lived in the Bunker, he’d covertly snipped a few wires in the surround sound system. The banjo music had been overwhelming at such volumes. Miraculously, Fiddleford had never found out.

 

As if he’d heard Ford’s thoughts, Fiddleford opened up the main panel at that moment and saw the cut wires. “Pigs spittin’ in a bucket!! Those are some cut wires there!”

 

Ford stiffened, ready for Fidds to interrogate him, but he simply scrambled off of the counter and started opening drawers. “I’m sure I had a wire reparin’ gizmodoohicky in one of these drawers somewhere... aha!”

 

Ford could only watch in abject horror as Fiddleford repaired the wires in two seconds flat, and surround-sound banjo music started blasting through the Bunker at full volume.

 

Dipper winced, but didn’t say anything about it. He looked more impressed than anything else. Ford almost thought he was going to start tapping his foot along in time, or do some other disowned-from-the-Pines-family-worthy banjo-supporting action, but instead he walked carefully over to the panel while Fiddleford was distracted, and switched the sound system off again.

 

Ford breathed a sigh of relief. He’d never been more proud of his grand-nephew. And Fiddleford had been distracted by remembering the entrance to the next room, so he didn’t even protest.

 

“That’s the sterilization room! Shifty-proof, as far as I reckon. We gotta go in one at a time.”

 

This was the first time Fiddleford had brought up the shapeshifter, but he didn’t seem to register what he was saying. It was like it had just slipped out of his mouth, straight from the subconscious. At the words “one at a time,” Dipper smiled ruefully.

 

“Welp, I’m going in!” Fiddleford announced. From within the sterilization chamber, Ford and Dipper could hear a faint but distinct “YEEE HAWW!”

 

Then the sterilization room’s doors swished open again. Ford urged Dipper to go in next. Dipper wasn’t as eager to go in, now that he knew what was in there. But Ford didn’t want to leave Dipper alone for a second down here. Even if Shifty  _ was _ safely stored in a cryogenic chamber. The longer he stood so close to that creature, the more uneasy he felt.

 

After Dipper’s turn in the chamber, Ford stepped inside. He didn’t want to linger in the control panel room. He was afraid he might get trapped there -- an irrational feeling, but it crept up on him anyway. Maybe the decades he spent on-the-run in the multiverse didn’t affect him every day, but it was times like these when he wondered if he’d been more deeply rattled than he usually thought. There was something about a dark place full of buttons and switches that reminded him of countless spaceships he’d been kidnapped on--

 

The sterilization chamber snapped Ford to attention with a swoosh of metal. For a split second he panicked, until the familiarity of the routine came back to him. They hadn’t designed this sterilization process with comfort in mind, but if you did something enough times, it became comforting by sheer force of repetition.

 

Once he was on the other side, some of the tension in Ford’s face was relaxed, and he was smiling again. “I haven’t done that in years. I think it cleared out dirt that’s been on my body since 1982.”

 

Dipper wrinkled his nose, laughing. “Eww, Grunkle Ford, that’s disgusting!’

 

Fiddleford was smiling as well. It was a smile that stopped Ford in his tracks. One that felt so much more familiar than his usual one. He felt transported back to the late ‘70s, when he and Fiddleford had first gotten used to the sterilization process needed to access this part of the bunker. They’d been so alone, except they didn’t feel alone at all, because they had each other and each other’s smarts, and Fiddleford had ham-boned in celebration of the newest part of the bunker being installed correctly. Ford never fully understood ham-boning, but he’d recognized the gist of it.

 

Then, catching sight of Dipper again, Ford was brought back to the present. Fiddleford smiled like he  _ remembered _ that.

 

“Do you remember the first time we went through that sterilization process?” Ford asked Fiddleford tentatively.

 

“Do I!” Fidds beamed. “I just got the memory back! I was just standin’ here, savorin’ it. You n’ me did a lotta good back then.”

 

Ford’s smile faltered. Yep. They’d done plenty of good things in the name of scientific advancement. But the next thing Fiddleford would see would be one of the not-so-good things they’d done in the name of science. And he didn’t look forward to Fiddleford regaining  _ that _ memory.

 

“Yes,” Ford replied halfheartedly. “We did do... some good work.”

 

This room was a complete mess. There was mold growing on everything, and the ground somehow felt  _ moist _ , like there had been water leakage. Which ... wasn’t out of the question, now that Ford thought about it.

 

On their way to the cryogenic chambers room, Ford and Fiddleford led the way. They didn’t say anything. It was nice, just remembering all the feelings that came back from this place, and from walking the same halls with the same friend again. Dipper was quiet, too, except for the sound of his camera flash whenever he saw something photo-worthy.

 

At last, they arrived at the room. The mold was worse, here. The tubes stood like trees in a forest that had burned down years ago, almost all of them smashed from the outside in, and holding together by the barest amount. There was only the one tube with its lights on, shining dim, frigid blue light across the room. The tube which contained Shifty.

 

One by one, they all spotted Shifty, and the mood of the room dropped dramatically. First, Dipper spotted him. In his head, he’d been picturing the insect-like monster with the pincers around his mouth, but he now remembered exactly what the shapeshifter had done right before being frozen solid.

 

_ You think you’re so clever don’t you, Dipper? But you have no idea what you’re up against. If you keep digging, you’ll meet a fate worse than you can imagine. And this will be the last form you ever take! _

 

Looking at the shapeshifter was like looking into a mirror. Dipper gasped as he saw it -- him -- with his face contorted into a scream, and his hand outstretched, like he was reaching for something high above himself. It was still creepy, even after he knew everything with Bill was over. He was safe. He was safe. But he still didn't like looking at the doppelganger of himself in this cryogenic chamber.

 

Ford noticed it next. In an instant, before he’d even registered why or who or what, his heartbeat leapt into his throat, and he was ten feet away from the cryogenic chamber, and his gun was pointing at the frozen Dipper doppelganger.

 

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper yelled, backing away and looking around for any sign of danger. “What’s wrong?”

 

Ford took several seconds to calm down. He took deep breaths, and then ever so slowly lowered his gun. “Nothing. I was just... taken off guard, by his...” he couldn’t stand to look at it. What had Shifty  _ done? _ Why had his last act been to torment Dipper with this nightmarish image of himself?? And why was the mere sight of it so awful?

 

Ford fixed his eyes on the real Dipper, trying to remember that he was okay. He was safe. Shifty wasn’t getting out anytime soon. Then he sighed. “...tell me what happened here, exactly.”

 

Dipper bit his bottom lip. “It’s really confusing, to try and say out loud. But sure.” Before he could begin the story, however, Fiddleford registered what was in the cryogenic chamber, and scrambled backwards with the speed and grace of a raccoon. He ended up on Ford’s shoulders, cowering there like a cat.

 

Ford winced at first, but then put a steadying hand on Fidds’s shoulder. “It’s just the shapeshifter. He can’t get out.”

 

Fiddleford didn’t say anything, but merely clung to Ford’s chin, trembling and staring at the Dipper in the chamber.

 

After a moment of waiting for Fidds to climb off of him, Ford decided it didn’t matter (and he really didn’t mind), so he prompted Dipper to continue his story.

 

Dipper told him about being stuck in the sterilization chamber with Wendy. About meeting “The Author”, and then figuring out it was actually the shapeshifter. About the wide range of creatures he’d sampled from Journal 3, and the final showdown with Wendy vs Wendy.

 

Ford whistled. “You kids went on a bona-fide adventure.”

 

With that, he drew up his courage and met the Dipper in the chamber’s eyes. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.

“Uh, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper said quietly.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How did the shapeshifter end up down here? I read what you wrote in the journals, but it’s been a while since I’ve thought about it.”

 

“Oh...” Ford tore his eyes away from the cryogenic chamber, and knelt down to be eye-level with Dipper. “That’s... a bit of a long story. I’m not sure if here is the best place to tell it.”

 

Fiddleford took this opportunity to climb off of Ford’s back. “Shapeshifty? I don’t recall who that is.”

 

Ford sighed. If there was anywhere that Fiddleford would remember this part of their experiments down here, it would be while listening to the tale in the place it happened. He didn’t want to deprive Fidds of the memory. Even if it  _ was _ an awful experience, and even if it was uncomfortable to admit what he’d done.

 

“Well, alright.” Ford began his story.

 

It was not easy to recount. But, Ford supposed, it wasn’t easy for Shifty to be frozen solid, or for Dipper and Fiddleford to hear the story, so he really didn’t have the brunt of the difficulties here.

 

When he reached the part about Shifty breaking out, he couldn’t meet Fiddleford’s eyes. Standing down here made all of it come back to him so vividly, and he remembered why he hadn’t felt much remorse for the shapeshifter in all the years he’d been running through the multiverse. He’d  _ hurt Fidds. _ That was never okay.

 

Although, if he thought about it, it was  _ him _ who had hurt Fiddleford indirectly, through insisting on continuing the experiments longer, instead of freezing Shifty immediately to test out their cryogenic chambers. But he didn’t want to think about that.

 

He didn’t want to think about any of this anymore, to be honest. But he pressed on with the story. He described spray painting the journal symbol on an old plumbing manual, and throwing it into the cryogenic chamber for Shifty to take as bait. And then Fiddleford remembered.

 

His eyes flew wide open, and he took a deep breath. Fidds’s breathing sped up so much that Dipper, who had been standing beside him, felt the need to pat him awkwardly on the shoulder.

 

Ford reached out and held Fidds’s hands. It was always what had calmed him down. In the most calm, even voice possible, he asked, “do you remember Shifty now?”

 

Fiddleford nodded. “Th-that-- that was a real-- that was-- th-- that was no fun at all, Stanford. I-- I was mighty glad I-- I had that memory erasin’ device-- to forget that with.”

 

Ford frowned. “Mm. Well, that’s the whole story. We’d better leave, before this place gets any creepier.”

 

Ford and Fiddleford left the bunker holding hands. And Dipper left it with a photo of what looked like himself frozen in a state of perpetual agony.

 

The shapeshifter wasn’t freed that day, nor any day soon after that. Maybe he should’ve been freed. Maybe he should’ve been given a second chance. But the Pines family felt much safer in their beds knowing that Shifty was still locked up cryogenic stasis.

 

That night, Fiddleford, Ford, and the rest of the Pines family crew sat out on the front porch, licking cheap melty popsicles. Fiddleford bounced his knee and played on a banjo Stan dug up from the attic. Ford put an arm over Fiddleford’s shoulder. And Dipper wondered, if he ever found an oddly-shaped egg in the forest, if he would keep it.


End file.
